No More
by ImpossibleNine
Summary: Three years separated meister and weapon. With a happy reunion on the horizon, Maka and Soul may yet recover each other after so long spent apart. But, as fate would have it, reunion may not be as easy or simple as they had hoped. (SoulxMaka, rated K for blood and gore.)


Maka would not have been surprised if Soul had really been on a camping trip with Black Star for three years. Those idiots were so stupid that they _would_ get lost for that long. Sadly, Maka had scoured the area around Death City for two years, and had been unable to locate her loyal companion.

Which brought her to her present location, Italy.

Maka was tracing the steps she had taken with Soul before the two had been separated in an intense fight so long ago. So long ago that Maka no longer remembered what her last words were to Soul. The meister opened her hotel window, a light breeze tousling her blonde pigtails as she looked over the narrow streets that reminded her of back home in Death City. The apartment, home. Even the absence of womanizing Papa made her heart sink. She sighed. Maka was lonely, homesick, _partner_sick.

Soul would not have been surprised if Maka had really been in a library for three years. She was so smart she _would _try to read an entire library for three years. His hands clenched the motorbike's handles as he navigated the narrow Italian streets. He had been in Italy for a few months, with no such luck in finding Maka. He had lost touch with everyone back home, and even lost his cell phone, enough to make any cool guy disheartened. But he had to find Maka. He had to find his meister.

Maka heard a rumbling motorcycle engine in the distance, and her attention was drawn towards it. Soul had a motorcycle. How often she had sat behind him on their way to missions, black jacket billowing behind them like a flag in a windstorm. Though time and time again she had been disappointed, but Maka activated her Soul Perception out of habit. Out of the tiny hope that the bike riding down the street was Soul's.

What was Soul's soul like again? She had not felt his presence in a while. It was a little rough around the edges, but dependable and trustworthy, wasn't it? But she saw him before his soul registered in her mind. He had a biking helmet now, made of smooth, shiny black plastic, with yellow souls painted on either side. White hair, no longer nor shorter than it had been last time she saw him, poked out from beneath the full faced helmet, with the briefest glimpse of dark scarlet eyes beneath the rim sending a jolt through her body. In the next second, however, the bike was already tearing down the street.

That had been Soul. Undeniably, unmistakably, that had been her weapon. He wore the same tattered athletic jacket, though no longer as baggy, fitted against a more muscular chest, and the same rust colored jeans, though likely the next size bigger. He was in Italy! Maka strapped on her boots quickly, tossed on her black jacket without bothering to button it up, and nearly stabbed the elevator button. He was so close! She nervously fidgeted in front of the elevator doors for a moment, before giving up and dashing for the stairs. She was getting her weapon back.

A familiar feeling gripped Soul's stomach as he slowed down in front of a marketplace. It felt like when Maka and he had met Stein for the first time, and the mad scientist had peered at both their souls. Which meant a meister must have been in Italy. But there were rarely missions in Italy… which could have one of many possibilities. Soul lurched the bike around to go back down the road. Maka! Maka was in Italy! He grinned, jagged teeth shining. He was getting his meister back.

Maka gasped for breath as she sprinted down the sidewalk, cape fluttering behind her. Any traces of Soul had long faded everywhere but Maka's mind, and the masses of people began to dissipate. Maka leaned her hands on her knees, doubled over, coughing to catch her breath. Where was she? She glanced around, and suddenly her mind was in another time.

_"Here we are," Soul declared. "Looks like we get to do some sight-seeing after all. I do love gothic architecture. This is one cool building."_

_ "Oh no! Impossible," Maka declared, jumping off the bike and dashing towards the door. _

_ "Hey, what's wrong?" Soul called, standing up off his bike and prodding up the kick stand._

_ "There's no way. Not that quickly," Maka mumbled to herself._

_ "Okay, slow down. Take a breath. When you start acting like this I can't keep up with you," Soul said, following his meister as the bell above clanged._

_ "All gone."_

_ "What? The bell? Yeah, it stopped."_

_ "No. No, I'm talking about the human souls that were inside. They disappeared suddenly. Now there's just the weapon and the meister," Maka explained, putting her hand to the door. Her gut had told her not to open it, but she had done so anyways. And, in the end, Soul had been…_

Maka rested her gloved hand on the doors once again, feeling the peeling green paint through her gloves. Maybe Soul was in the church. Waiting for her. There was a slim chance, but a chance none the less. She felt a soul's presence inside, but wasn't entirely sure whose it was. She tentatively pushed on the door, allowing them to swing inwards. Her jacket flapped in the sudden release of air, settling around her shins. She herself had not changed much in the long span of time, but the circumstances were entirely new.

"Soul?" she called into the church, stepping forward. "Souuuuuul!"

"Guess again, meister," a foul voice chuckled, and the doors slammed shut behind Maka. "How refreshing it is to see a meister without her weapon. Where'd he go, little meister? Dead?"

"Who are you?" Maka growled, clenching her fists.

"Many names, I go by. You, however, may recognize me," the figure said, stepping into the multicolored light filtering through the stained glass.

"Soul?" Maka asked, observing the black suit and grinning serrated teeth. "No. You're the little demon inside Soul."

"No longer inside Soul, meister Maka. I am the black blood. That is all. I can take any shape and any form," the impersonator grinned, shifting to a mirror version of herself. "Soul? Where are you?" he asked in a perfect imitation of Maka's voice.

"Shut up!" Maka yelled, tightening her fists even more.

"Oh really?" the black blood grinned, striding towards the meister until the two were face to face. "Your precious Soul Eater Evans isn't here to save you. So I might as well eat your soul," the other Maka grinned, and the meister watched with horror as long blades protruded from the monster's body.

Soul's sneakers thundered against the sidewalk. A gut feeling, and perhaps more, had told him to go to one certain place, where he hoped Maka was waiting. His steps faltered as he realized who may be standing there, someone different, someone entirely unrecognizable. She may have another weapon already. Or not remember him. Or be… hot? He mentally added three years to the Maka he had last seen, as bits of blood dripped from his nose. Not cool. He hastily wiped it away, and determination renewed to see his meister.

The weapon tightened his fists. Maka was close. His soul could _feel_ it. The two souls, who had resonated so many times, were drawing nearer and nearer. He ran faster and faster, sweat beading on his forehead. Soul stopped outside the church he and Maka had fought Crona in years before. He hand clutched his sweatshirt, which had begun to get tight on him with age, as he remembered what had happened. He was still Maka's weapon partner.

A small scrap of fabric dropped out of his pocket, and Soul quickly scooped it up. His old sweatband. His lips drew back in a jagged grin, tugging the sweatband back onto his head. He looked up at the large church bell. Not much had changed since back then. He was still always to die for Maka. His feelings had not changed. Soul pushed the door, and air rushed out of the building.

Blood. Blood everywhere. On the ground. Across the benches. In the aisle of the church. And, in the center of the mess was his meister.

"Maka!" Soul yelled, but received no answer as the doors closed. A shadow moved behind Maka, and Soul's arm turned into a scythe with the familiar clang of metal. "Maka! Hey Maka this isn't cool! Answer me! It's Soul!"

Still no response from Maka.

"Give it up, Soul," Maka's voice answered, stepping forward into the light once again, clutching something in her hand.

"Maka?"

"Your dear meister is gone, Soul," the false meister smiled, an iridescent blue soul pulsing with light in her hand.

Soul's crimson eyes grew wide, as his knees threatened to buckle out from underneath him. His stomach churned with anxiety as he felt breathing become difficult and coldness percolate his veins like ice water. The world was crashing down around him. His meister was gone, and he hadn't been around to protect her.

"Damn it, Maka," Soul cursed, hand clenched in a fist. "Damn it." His eyes began to sting with tears, but, fighting them away, he made eye contact with the demon.

"I don't know who you think you are, but that was _my _meister. It's not cool to kill a weapon's meister like that," Soul stated, trembling with anger and shock. "Your soul is mine!"

"I'd like to see you try!" the demon declared, the image of Maka disappearing under its skin, replaced by a demon resembling the Jack the Ripper he and Maka had hunted down once. It grinned in horrific confidence, brandishing the glimmering blades on each hand.

"Soul…" a quiet, struggling voice called.

"Maka?" Soul asked,

"Just so you know, this soul isn't Maka's," the monster clarified, swallowing the little blue soul that it held. "Maybe if you don't die you can save your meister. But, slim chance."

"Don't worry Maka! I'll protect you!" Soul yelled, running at the demon.

"Soul, save… yourself," Maka managed. "Leave me."

"You're so stupid sometimes," he grinned, slashing at the demon. "Cool guys don't leave their partners."

The Ripper countered all Soul's attacks, with the weapon managing to get a small hit in only once. "Why won't you just die already!" it growled, slicing at Soul's head. The weapon leaned back, narrowly missing the deadly blades, a small cut spreading across Soul's cheek, and his sweatband flying across the room.

"Damn it, this guy's good," he muttered, jumping up and slicing at the demon.

It retaliated with a fortified defense, before knocking Soul back, sliding across the church floor. He sat up again with a grunt, in time to see the monster target the dying Maka.

"Maka!" he yelled, hand transforming back to normal with a blue light, sprinting and diving toward his meister.

This had happened before. Soul jumping in front of danger to save Maka. So, as the cold metal ripped through Soul's clothes, he wanted to smile. And in the same place too, he thought. What irony.

More blood hit the church floor as three long streaks appeared across Soul's chest. Blood leaked from each scrape, intermixing with the pool beneath him as it touched the ground. He wobbled forward, a bit of blood dribbling from his mouth, the scrape of metal notifying the demon that Soul was still ready to fight.

"What? You're not scared? You're not trembling? You're not fleeing?" the demon questioned.

"No, I _am_ scared. If you forget your fear you become reckless. I just have someone to protect who I prioritize above myself right now. And a soul to eat," he smiled, jagged teeth gleaming.

"You stubborn little weapon," the monster grumbled, shifting claws forward. "But if you want to die a more terrible death, then go ahead!"

Soul yelled as he attacked, trying the strike from above to finish the fight. "You're just an immature little kid who's letting his emotions get the best of him. You're not even trying!" it yelled, knocking Soul back again. Soul slid across the floor on his feet, winching as the wounds on his chest stung.

"You don't know what it's like fighting for someone you care about," he declared, running in for another strike. "You don't know how much determination it gives cool guys like me!"

"You're beginning to sound like that blue haired brat," the demon grumbled, blocking Soul's attack effortlessly.

"It's bad enough you injured my meister, but now you insult my friends?" Soul called, doubling his attack speed, charging and jumping at the monster.

"Who cares? You're dead soon!" it declared, knocking Soul to the floor.

"Not so soon," Soul said, shakily standing up and spiting a glob of saliva and blood onto the floor.

"Then show me if your soul is tasty enough for the effort!" the monster roared.

Soul sprinted forward, building speed, ready to attack the demon. But, instead of jumping up to kill, he slid down, aiming to duck from the sweep of claws and get the monster in its side before he noticed. The blade caught the demon in the flank, and Soul sliced through in one fluid motion. In its final moments, the demon knocked Soul back onto the ground, before dying into a vortex of black, leaving behind only a floating red soul. Soul laboriously crawled forward to get the soul, swallowing it in one bite. The weapon returned to his meister's side, laying down propped up on his elbows, catching his breath as the adrenaline faded and pain rocketed across his chest

"Hey, Maka," he called quietly.

The meister's bangs shifted as she subtly moved her head to look at Soul, revealing her vibrant green eyes. "Yeah?" she asked.

"This is number 99. We're getting a witch's soul next, right?"

"Soul…"

"We'll be okay… yeah?"

"Soul…"

"Cool partners always live… and if not at least… we die cool," he huffed, collapsing on his back, arms spread wide.

"Soul… I can't… I don't think…" She stuttered, glancing away. It was easier than looking in his hope-filled irises.

"Maka, resonate. With me," Soul declared suddenly.

"Huh?" she asked dimly. Soul glanced over at his meister, at the matching three strokes that ripped through the front of her black jacket, stained dark with blood.

"Match wavelengths," he answered.

"Why?" she asked, staring at the church ceilings.

"Just once. In case we don't… make it," Soul smiled tiredly.

"Don't you… need to be… a scythe?" she struggled.

"Just match wavelengths," he said, closing his eyes.

Maka closed her dull green eyes, finding Soul's presence next to her comforting. A spark erupted between the two souls, and both weapon and meister gave off a slight blue light. "Yeah. Cool," Soul mumbled tiredly. A sudden ring cut through the air and Maka reached into her pocket.

"Kid," she read, smiling faintly. "They called… this morning… asking if I… found you yet." She pressed talk. "Hey Kid… Yeah… Soul's here… Novella Basilica… Church. I'm… fine," she said, hanging up.

"And?" Soul asked, watching his meister, and the little blue light shining around her like a halo.

"They're coming," she said, closing her eyes again, phone clattering to the floor.

"Maka?"

"14 hours. Maybe," she breathed.

"Fourteen hours…" he smirked. "Yeah. I guess we do die cool."

Maka reached to the other side of her with a trembling hand. Her gloves clasped around a familiar bit of fabric, dragging the scrap back towards herself. "Here. Soul." She set the sweatband down on his chest.

"Ah. Thanks, Maka," he breathed, closing his eyes.

"Yeah," she exhaled, returning her gaze to the ceiling.

"Hey, Maka. I really… missed you. You know. I searched… all through Europe. Looking. For my meister."

She nodded slightly. "Same."

"And… you know... what?"

"Hm?" Maka exhaled.

He grabbed her hand, pulling off the blood stained glove. Her cold hand touched his, and Maka glanced at Soul. "It made… me think. I think… I love you."

"I love… you too… Soul," she said in one last breath, gaze permanently locked on the ceiling.

"Maka?" Soul asked.

"Hey, Maka," he repeated.

"Maka?" he called, voice trembling. The blue light around his meister faded, and her hand grew limp in his.

His meister was gone for good. No more Witch Hunter. No more Maka Chops. No more promises of becoming a Death Scythe. No more teasing her about how flat she looked. No more motorcycle rides through streets. No more resonating. Tears burned in Soul's eyes. No future for Maka and him. And if his meister was to go, then so was he.

Kid arrived in Rome within 12 hours, unescorted. He carried three tickets back to Death City, one for him, one for Soul, and one for Maka. Liz and Patty were back in Death City training with Marie, as he was only to collect the missing meister and weapon. What he did not know was that when he got to the Novella Basilica, he wouldn't find the two smiling and reminiscing and rejoicing. All he would find were empty bodies, and the souls of two partners and lovers separated by their biggest obstacle yet, death.


End file.
